


White Lines in Western Media

by JForward



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JForward/pseuds/JForward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff Winger is the height of fashion. That's the only reason he almost never takes off his watch. He's left handed; that's the only reason he always wears it on the right. There's no way that Jeff could hide anything under that, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Lines in Western Media

**Author's Note:**

> W/N: I might make this into a series. I don’t know if it’ll be in order. IDK I’m really losing faith in my fics. I’ve started taking down the ones that aren’t very good. I need to stop writing at 4am. Instead I’m writing this at 4pm. Please give me creative criticism to help me improve. Alright, here we go… enjoy.

 

The last day had sent Jeff reeling, struggling to deal with memories of a time when he wasn’t the cocky, self-assured man he had become. Despite it all? He actually trusted Shirley, he’d grown to like these people, this group of friends that he hadn’t had for such a long time. Then it turned out that she was responsible for so much of his life, for his reasoning that he had to be a hard man, that he couldn’t show emotion - and yeah, maybe it was more to do with his dad going than anything else, but damn - she’d messed him up big time. Anger pushed him to challenge her at the stupid foosball table, taking off his ridiculously expensive watch, putting it aside as they competed fiercely - and then, suddenly, they were at an impasse.

When the rage had faded and they’d realised everything wasn’t as bad as it had once been, they began to practice just how they were going to brutalize those Europeans the next day. By the time they finished, both were smiling, with a vicious pleasure at the idea of taking out those assholes. He’d rolled his sleeves up awhile back, having completely forgotten about the watch he’d removed. Trusting Shirley, caught in the moment - he had picked up the accessory, not realising her eyes were on him as he started to put it on.  
“Jeffrey? What’s that?” he looked around at Shirley’s question, realising where she was looking, and went pale.   
“It’s, uh, my watch.” he replied, doing it up as quickly as possible, but her hand reached out, intercepting his movements. Her eyes were on his face, forcing him to meet them as she slid the watch away again.

“Jeffrey, I have two young boys. You think I don’t spend every minute of my life being scared about this kinda thing?” her eyes moved down to his arm, turning it over gently in her hands, looking at the mark on his wrist. “How old is this?” she asked, quietly, seeing the way his throat hitched and the hint of fear in those bright blue eyes of his. “Did I cause-?”  
“No.” Jeff said, quickly, “No, it’s a lot more recent than that, Shirley. If it was that old, it’d be completely faded.” he let out a shaky breath, seeing the way she almost gingerly held his strong arm, the thick white mark displayed up. “I don’t like to talk about it. It’s not something I’ve ever really shared with anyone, okay? I’d like it if you could keep this between us.”

Shirley’s expression was breaking his fucking heart right now. She looked so utterly disappointed in him. “Jeff, there’s so many other options here. You really need to find the lord, He would never let-”  
“Spare me the sermon, Shirley, it was thre- it was awhile ago, alright? I’m over it now. Just a stupid thing I did at a bad time.” she still looked so disappointed in him. Easing back, Jeff freed his arm, starting to put his watch on again, the leather band covering the scar easily. “Just don’t mention this to anyone else, alright? We’ve already talked about this. You’re a pot stirrer. You stir the pot.” she gave a hint of a sad smile at the mention of their old joke. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself. Always could.” then he patted her on the shoulder, turning to go.

“Jeffrey?” Shirley called after him, and he turned to look at her. “Would you like to go out tomorrow? For a movie. After we show those sausage-brains who’s the boss?”  
He smiled at her.  
“Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
